When you love to the moon and back

WHEN THEY LOVE TO THE MOON AND BACK

 — I love you, — you said with a smile, looking into my eyes.

 — And how do you love me?

We were lying in our bed, looking into each other's eyes, basking in the rays of the morning May sun. I was running my fingers through your hair, stroking your shoulders. I love looking at you, love touching you, love exploring you.

 — So how do you love me?

 — To the moon and back, — your smile became even more tender.

I love it when you say that, I love seeing the playful sparkle in your three eyes, love your dimples when you smile. A kiss... Tender, innocent, light, almost airy.

It embodies all of you, just as tender, just as airy, and insanely desirable.

 — And you?

 — I love you too, sweetheart.

You raise your eyebrows.

 — No, I want to finally hear that you love me too.

 — Bunny, you know that's how it is, — I reply calmly, trying to kiss you again.

 — No, say it, — you persist. You moved away, sat up. The sheet, which had been covering your slender body, slid down, revealing small, firm breasts and a flat stomach. — Please, say it. I need it. Don't you understand? — tears glistened in your eyes.

 — My little bunny, what's wrong? — I reached for you, hugged you. My shoulder began to burn with the droplets of your tears. — Stop, I can't bear your tears. You know how precious you are to me, how desired.

I hugged her tighter, stroked her hair, her velvet skin. It seems I could sit like this forever. But, work... Once on a postcard I read a funny inscription: "If work interferes with your personal life, to hell with such work!" How I agree. But payment for housing and other benefits of civilization hasn't been canceled yet, and money doesn't fall from the sky. So, after kissing you on the top of your head, I went to get ready.

 — You didn't say... — I barely made out the words I heard behind my back.

Then everything went as usual: shower — requests to hurry up — kitchen — dressing room — requests to hurry up. I drove you to the university, went to the bank myself. And again: negotiations — meetings — negotiations — deals... We never called each other during the day: I was completely immersed in work, you in your studies. I know that by the time I come home in the evening, you're already there, and if you're delayed, you'll send a text.

So I was a little surprised when I came home and didn't find you there. Checked my phone — there were no calls or texts from you. Okay, I thought, exams are coming up, you must have been delayed with your studies somewhere. But you weren't there at nine, or at eleven. You didn't answer my calls, and a little later the operator even said the subscriber was temporarily unavailable.

What the hell! What does "subscriber unavailable" mean?! Although, yes... You are unavailable to me right now — I can't see you, I can't touch you. I suddenly remembered the morning scene, your pouting lips, the tears not yet dry... Could you really be offended? Could you really be taking revenge on me like this?!! Silly girl! I was furious, paced the apartment from wall to wall, nervously smoked one cigarette after another. I don't understand why you got so upset. After all, they're just words and nothing more. What will change if I say that damned "I love you"? Yes, nothing! For almost all eight months we've been together, you've been begging me to say those words out loud. But they're just words, actions are more important, attention is more important. Isn't that right? I never (God forbid!) reproached you for living with me, for feeding and clothing you, for paying for your studies. I take you to bars, restaurants, clubs, introduce you to my friends, give you gifts. I love doing it! That's how I express my feelings for you.

At first, I thought you were sleeping with me only for the money, only because you had nowhere else to go. That it was a kind of payment for comfort. What a fool I was to think that!!! How could I doubt the sincerity of your feelings? You are bright, tender, kind, sincere. You are mine...

But where are you? One in the morning, and "the subscriber is temporarily unavailable." Anger gave way to worry. I called a few of your friends. They all said they hadn't seen you after classes. I believe them. And what should I do? What if something happened to you? Maybe it's time to start calling hospitals and morgues? Okay, I'll wait until morning. I hope you're just sulking and spending the night at some friends' place. For some reason, worry gave way to jealousy.

Around three in the morning, I fell asleep in the armchair, still not waiting for you. I dreamed of you, I dreamed of our first meeting. You came into my office asking for a loan for your studies. So thin, all somehow transparent, like a haze, in a short little dress, a thin, completely wet jacket, and sneakers (and it was cold and rainy outside). I was VERY surprised to see THIS wonder in my office. Right after, my secretary rushed in, apologizing for the appearance of THIS character; she said she didn't notice how she slipped in.

 — Alright, — I said. — Bring us coffee and a couple of sandwiches.

I don't know why I didn't kick you out then. I knew from the very beginning that I wouldn't give you any loan. I knew by heart all the heart-wrenching stories about burned-down houses, sick relatives, and so on; I have an icy heart, such requests don't touch me. Gentlemen, I am not a social service, I am the head of a solid bank where money is valued and a loan is granted if we don't doubt your ability to pay.

But for some reason, I wanted to listen to you. I offered you a seat, coffee and sandwiches were brought. At first, you were shy, looking down at the floor. Then you began your story about how your parents are alcoholics, that you've been earning your own food and clothing since you were 18, that you tried to study and got into a prestigious university. You told me you dream of being a lawyer. But it turned out that part of the classes still had to be paid for, and you simply didn't have the money for that. You said you spent nights at friends' places, and if no one was available, then at the train station.

I looked at you, at your face (a very beautiful face, I must say) and believed, believed every word you said.

 — You see, I don't know what to do, where else to get money. I think I'm ready to go out on the street and sell my body, — and your big brown eyes filled with tears.

So, for a moment then, it seemed to me that you knew I was a lesbian and were ready to sleep with me for money, for your dream. But looking into your eyes, that thought quickly dissolved before it could solidify. Your eyes couldn't lie. You are pure. I knew that for sure.

 — What should I do with you? Understand, I can't give you a loan.

In your eyes, I saw the last hope for the future shatter against the ice of my lack of understanding. You lowered your head and quietly cried. God, how I hate women's tears! But I really wanted to help.

 — Don't cry. Come with me.

We left the bank building, got into the car (the workday was over), and I took you... to my place! I didn't expect that from myself. No, it's one thing to meet someone at a club, for example, and bring them home with all the ensuing consequences. But this... I didn't even know why I was doing it. You, it seems, didn't either. I let you into my apartment, sent you to the bathroom to freshen up, and went to the kitchen myself. Half an hour later, we were having dinner. Having showered and wrapped in my terry robe, you were eating heartily. You were chattering cheerfully about something. And for the first time in our brief acquaintance, you were smiling. I couldn't get enough of looking at you. I felt myself melting under your charm. And I realized that having come to me today, I wouldn't want to let you go.

I was awakened by a persistent phone call. It turned out I had overslept. For the first time in my life, I overslept! Naturally, I was late for the meeting. Moreover, being in a foul mood, I scolded two employees for no reason, threatening to fire them. Everything was going wrong. No, not like that. Without YOU, everything is going wrong. "The subscriber is temporarily unavailable"... Not temporarily, but still! I was angry, I was worried, I blamed myself — all feelings mixed together. All the work hustle and bustle ceased to matter. What do I need all this for if I can't touch you, if I can't kiss your tender lips, if I can't caress your velvet skin, if I can't inhale your slightly bitter scent. I just need to see you, admire you. I need to hear your gentle voice, your laughter. I want to hear over and over again that you love me...

God, I understood! I finally understood why you were offended. Grabbing my purse and telling my secretary I was leaving for a business lunch, I went to look for you at the university. "The subscriber is temporarily unavailable"... What nonsense! I call your classmates. It turns out you weren't in class today! Where are you?!! I drove around the city, checking our favorite spots. You weren't here... I don't know why, but I went to the train station where you used to spend nights. No, you weren't here either...

It's my fault. I won't survive if something happened to you. All sorts of bad thoughts crept into my head. I felt tears appear on my cheeks. The Snow Queen had melted. I never cried. Getting into the car, I was already sobbing uncontrollably, dropping my head onto the steering wheel.

I don't remember how I got home. I don't remember parking the car. I don't remember if I answered the neighbor from the third floor. I don't remember how I got to the apartment... I don't remember how I lay on the sofa for three days, staring at one spot.

The sun's rays were burning into my face, and I had to wake up.

You?… YOU!!! You were sitting on the floor, leaning against the door... So fragile and so unhappy.

 — I thought you were calling me, — you said as if apologizing, and looked at me with some extinguished eyes.

 — It's you! My God, this isn't a hallucination, it's really you!!!

I walked over to you with an unsteady gait (my legs, unused for three days, were completely swollen), knelt down in front of you.

 — Forgive me, my dear, forgive me, — tears rolled from my eyes. I kissed your hands, your feet, hugged you and pressed you to me. — I was a fool, I understood everything. Really. I understood how important it is to hear that we are loved. These aren't just words, they are something more. They are what makes us wonder, rejoice, strive, what makes us live. And everything else pales in comparison. I love you, do you hear, I love you so much.

 — And how do you love me?

 — I love you to the moon and back...

Author's e-mаil: biz-25@mаil.ru